Faberge Eggs

Like many children, while I was growing up, I had I suppose what you would call a typical american childhood. I was an only child, but I had friends, and I often went outside and played, sometimes into the late hours of the night.

One of the things I remember wanting when I was a child was the ability to grow up and be independent; I wanted to explore the big world and all it had to offer. While it all looked good on paper, I was often limited to my street by a lack of transportation and an 8:00 pm curfew.

I'm off to save the world!

My parents always told me "You'll have plenty of time to be an adult, but your only a kid once. Enjoy it now." Of course these words were lost on me... Why, there was adventure to be had! Friends to be made! People to be saved! A happily ever after to be had!

In addition to my romanticized ideology of the world, I was also spoon-fed the typical childhood tales of Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. My mother however received the blunt end of the latter when I jumped up and scared her when her hand was behind my pillow one evening, searching for the baby tooth I had put there.

What I should have done. Psssh, they would've grown back.

In my angsty teenage years,  I never understood exactly why we told children these blatant lies; why we let them live in this fantasy world that we helped them construct. That's not how the world works... why lie about it?

Innocence to me was a Faberge egg... something that looked beautiful, but was essentially useless and would only one day shatter into thousands of tiny shards. During my teenage years, I faced certain personal adversities that sent several tiny cracks throughout my own egg, leading to its inevitable demise. Don't we all though? I think we realize we're on the brink of losing something valuable, but there's nothing we can do to stop it. That's enough to make anyone bitter.

Seriously, what do you even do with this thing?

The fact of the matter is this: One day we all grow up. Nothing lasts forever, including childhood. But now that I've grown older, I look back on my younger years with a sense of wonder. The rose tinted glasses gone, I know that I'm not the only person in the world who has feelings that matter. My parents aren't the perfect superheroes I once thought they were. The law isn't always right, and a little chaos isn't always bad. Most importantly, life isn't fair.

What did it all mean? What was the purpose of it all? I can't tell you really. But, I think, much like Shakespeare said, "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." A lesson can be learned from any experience I suppose.

My Faberge egg lies shattered on the ground. I am no longer the starry eyed child I once was. But I was him once. We were all that starry eyed child once. I suppose the memories of childhood are something that, although no longer intact, are still beautiful and precious. So what do you choose to do? Will you throw the shards away in the trash, readjust your tie, pick up your briefcase and move on, or will leave them on the shelf, as a memory of something precious and beautiful that you once had?

Who knows... maybe if you leave a carrot out, the Easter Bunny will take it home and repair it for you some day.